Paris in the Twilight
by imaginative-dreamer
Summary: What if Christian had not pursued Satine in the opening night of Spectacular Spectacular? What if Christian had believed Satine's lies and decided to go back to Britain? Life continues for the two star-crossed lovers, with a little twist.
1. Chapter 1: Decisions

**_p.s. I don't own any of the characters from Moulin Rouge. Just my own plot._ **

* * *

Prologue

What if Christian had never believed Toulouse's words? What if Christian had simply left? The way he was supposed to?

Set just after Satine tells him that she no longer loved him, we venture into the possibility of the alternative. The alternative where Christian was faced with the decision of going back and where Satine was still alive, clinging to the last of her life.

The alternative with a little twist.

Chapter 1

Christian stared at the ticket in his hand. Britain. To go back, the mere thought of it was unappealing. To return to his father's home was like a death wish for his chosen Bohemian lifestyle. But what was left for him here in Paris?

The woman he loved had left him for riches. But he could never blame her, who could? Satine always left men at a disadvantage, for being close to her was like breathing in intoxicating gas that made you faint. But truly, who can blame her? The Duke was a financially stable man who had more to offer than he, a poor struggling Bohemian writer had to offer.

What about love? What about "the best thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return"? Perhaps if she was living in his world, she could do that. But Satine wasn't. Her life was a difficult life of struggle for success. Not the frivolous free life of the Bohemians who could just live by their philosophy and nothing else. Christian told himself repeatedly, if he loved her, he would let her go, let her fulfil her dreams and sought the life that he could never offer. And so he would. No matter how much it hurt him, he would let her go.

- - -

Satine stared at the blood-stained handkerchief in her palm. She did not have long to live. So why did she turn away the one man that she'll ever love? If she did not even have time left to enjoy the success, glory and wealth that the Duke had to offer, then why did she even turn Christian away?

The answer to that was simple. Clear especially to those who had ever been in love and loved in return. She had turned him away because she could not bear the thought of him hurting. She would rather that he lived with the thought that somewhere here in Paris, she was still alive, living her life to the fullest, than him thinking that she was dead, gone from the world. She knew just how much he loved her and letting him know that she was dying was a blow that she knew he would never be able to recover from. So, she would rather he thought that she chose riches over love. She would rather him hurting than him giving up on life. Let him think of her as superficial, for who cares? She was dying and her last dying wish was that the man that she loves continued on living his life, the way he was suppose to.

- - -

"Satine!"

Christian sat up from his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead. He swallowed and closed his eyes. 'It was just a dream,' he told himself. It was a ridiculous dream. Satine was far away back in Paris, living a wonderful life, and not in the arms of a...creature. He shuddered at the memory of it. The vividness of the dream made it seem almost real. She was in its arms and there was a lifeless sheen in her blue eyes. The thing, it was a man. But there was something just not right about the scene. The thing was a man, a handsome one, with a trickle of her blood trickling down from his blood-stained lips.

'Vampire,' his sub-conscious mind whispered.

He dismissed the thought immediately. There was no such thing as vampires. They were simply creatures of human imagination, created, just as how he created the love story of the Courtesan, the Maharaja and the poor sitar player.

'But did you create that? Or was the play actually true?' Again, his sub-conscious mind urged.

Christian glared at the bottle of absinthe that was sitting on the writing table of his room.

"Stupid alcohol. Now I'm hearing idiotic reasonings about myths in my head," he muttered under his breath.

Christian sighed. What was he going to do now? He was stuck back in his father's home, with absolutely nothing to do but to take over his father's business. Unfortunately, he had no interest in taking over the business. Nonwhatsoever. His fingers were itching to put something down on paper. But ever since reaching London, Christian had given up his Bohemian dreams.

Now he was wondering if he had made the right choice of returning to his hometown. He had nothing left here either. So why had he come back? Simply to escape from the pain of seeing Satine happy with someone else?

But would she ever be happy with someone else? He had convinced himself that she loved him no more. That she had moved on.

But now, he was having doubts about it.

Christian sighed at the weight of his thoughts. He climbed out of his bed and walked towards his writing table. He picked up the folded piece of paper that he arrived for him a few days ago .He had neglected it, thinking it must be a letter from Satine.

He drew a deep breath,

_" Dear Christian,_

_Spectacular Spectacular is receiving the best reviews one could ever hope for. It is a shame that the man we owe all our success to is not here to share it with us. All of us miss you, Christian. You are after all, our most gifted writer and our dearest friend._

_It is true. All of us do miss you. Especially our dear star, Satine. Ah, how she pretends to be happy in front of the Duke. But she is a brilliant actress, Christian. I can tell that she misses you. There is always a sad gleam in her eyes whenever she sings your song, the final secret song._

_Come back, Christian. We all miss you. More importantly, she misses you._

_You may decide not to heed this drunkard fool's words but I think she still loves you._

_Yours truly,_

_Toulouse"_

He stared at his friend's messy scrawl. The last four words seem to be repeating itself in his mind.

_She still loves you._

Could Toulouse possibly be right?

* * *

**_Note: Hey. Please leave your reviews. Please! Thanks lots!!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Stranger

**Chapter 2**

He had dismissed his friend's words when his friend was trying to convince him to stay before he left. But now, he had doubts about his decision. Of course, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to believe his drunkard friend but Satine's cold words of departure had left a hole in his heart and he thought it best to just leave.

Christian placed the letter back on the table. He had hoped that the letter had been from Satine, begging him to come back to her. That was just wishful thinking. Satine would never send such a letter. Not after she made it so clear that she was no longer in love with him.

He remembered the scene clearly in his mind. He remembered feeling so much pain when Satine told him that she was leaving him for the Duke that he thought that his heart was physically breaking into a million pieces. He had not wanted to believe her words at first. But he saw it in her eyes. He saw the bleak coldness in her blue eyes. He saw that she really couldn't be with him anymore. He could not believe, did not want to at that moment, to believe that all the times that they had together was lost, forgotten, as if the love that they had was not even real.

But...

Something was wrong about the whole scene. Apart from his whole life crashing down on him and apart from his heart breaking into a million pieces, there was something strange about the scene.

'Satine would never do that, Christian. That's what's wrong,' his mind whispered.

His mind flashed back to that one time when she said, "I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe."

Christian frowned.

'You know her better than anyone else can ever will. She would never do that. The love that you had was real.'

He made his decision. He would go back to Paris. He would find out if Satine still loved him. He would find out if there was still hope to sway her decision.

"I'm going back to Paris," he whispered grimly, a determined gleam in his eyes.

-

"My dear," the Duke whispered.

Satine shuddered at the tone of his voice. The tone that he probably thought was of love but to Satine's ears, it was nothing but pain and disgust.

"Yes Duke?"

"Opening night is tomorrow."

Satine's heart dropped to the pits of her stomach. The mere idea of sleeping with the Duke was revolting. But being the actress that she is, Satine faked a brilliant smile.

"And what about it, my dear Duke?"

"Remember our deal?"

How could she not? It was all that had been occupying her mind these days. That and the memories she and Christian had together.

"But of course, Duke," she smiled seductively. "How can I not?"

"Good. Now I shall leave you to your rehearsal. Spectacular Spectacular will be success!"

Pleased that she remembered, the Duke finally walked away with a gleeful smile plastered on his face. Satine closed her eyes and leant back when he finally left her in peace.

But her eyes flashed open when she felt a tight constricting pain in her chest. Her hand flew to her chest when she could not breathe. She opened her mouth, desperately trying to draw in air, her breaths coming in short desperate pants.

And then everything went black.

Satine opened her eyes to the ceiling of her room with no remembrance of how she got there.

"You fainted."

Satine turned towards the sound of the familiar voice. Harold Zidler stood in the corner of the room looking at her with saddened eyes.

Satine gave him a weak smile. "Oh, I'm sure it was nothing, Harold. I think those long tiring rehearsals are finally beginning to take a toll on me."

"Satine," he replied in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, Harold!" She smiled. "After all, the show must go on."

Zidler sighed at Satine's act. She knew the truth. He had told her before she broke things off with that British writer.

"Yes. You are right, Satine. The show must go on."

Despite the smiles they both exchanged, they both knew that she was dying. They both knew that her death was inevitable. It was a matter of time before the illness finally took over.

And time was something Christian was running out of. Because Christian had absolutely no idea the pain that Satine was going through. He was completely ignorant of the fact that his beloved Satine was slowly dying because of Consumption_(1)_.

_(1) Now known as tuberculosis_

-

The stranger looked around, taking in the different surroundings. He observed every little detail of the place as he had been trained to.

His eyes followed a piece of paper that was flying in the wind. Everytime there was a breeze, the piece of paper would be picked up and tossed about by the breeze. When the piece of paper finally fluttered to where he was standing, he bent to pick it up.

It was a sad trampled-on-countless-times flyer. Spectacular Spectacular, it read.

His eyes trailed along the paper, noting the opening night times and place. He remembered the conversations random men on the street were having about Moulin Rouge. About the brilliant times they had there with the wonderful women. But the one woman that was constantly awed by them was a woman called the Sparkling Diamond.

He shrugged. Why not? He was already here in Paris. So why not pay the famous Moulin Rouge a visit?

"Sir."

A reedy voice disturbed his thoughts. He turned to face a woman who was lurking in the shadows a few feet away from him. His eyes adjusted to the dark and focused on the woman. A disturbing unclean scent filled his nostrils as her scent wafted towards him in the breeze. She was pale and dressed in poor rags. Her curly brown hair was a mess and there were smudges on her face.

"Are you in need of company tonight, sir?" She grinned what she thought was probably a seductive grin. The woman leant against the wall of the alley, sticking her chest out while tugging her dress just a bit lower.

He took a step towards her.

Her smile grew wider as she closed the gap between them and pressed herself against him.

"Oh! Sir, you feel so cold!" She batted her eyelashes. "Come, let me warm you."

He smiled a lopsided grin. He could hear her heart flutter nervously as he did that. He loved doing that because he knew what effect he had on women around him.

She giggled. "My, I am certainly lucky tonight, sir. Such a beautiful young man you are."

'Young?' He thought amusingly. He was hardly young.

He pulled her farther into the dark alley and pushed her against a wall. He let his finger trail down her cheek, her neck, and her half-exposed breasts to her waist. He recognised the spark of desire in her pretty green eyes.

She pulled him down, kissing him hard. She almost recoiled when his cold lips touched hers. But realising that tonight might just be her luckiest night, what with such a handsome and wealthily dressed young man, she ignored the cold and continued kissing him.

He pulled away, grinned at her and took hold of her wrist. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses down her arm, finally resting his lips on the wrist.

He noticed her looking at him, waiting.

He pulled his lips slightly away, enough to murmur, "Do you have family?"

"No sir. I am a lone woman in need of company." She trailed her other palm down his chest.

"Good." He smiled.

She gasped as he pierced through her skin and drank from her reservoir of the warm red liquid that he had been craving for long. His other palm covered her mouth before another sound could escape.

He carried the limp body in his arms. He had been here long enough to discover where would be safe enough to dispose off the lifeless bodies of his preys.


	3. Chapter 3: Meeting

**Chapter 3**

Christian looked at his familiar surroundings. Here he was, back in familiar settings, back even in his own old quarters.

"Christian!"

"Toulouse!"

"You are back!"

"Ah, it's good to be back, Toulouse. How is everything?"

His friend peered at him from above his small spectacles. "Opening night is tonight, Christian. Satine has been involved in nothing but her work. Although she brushes me off everytime I so much as mention your name. But honestly Christian, Satine has been involved in absolutely nothing but work. She ignores even the Duke if she can help it."

Christian's heart swelled with relief. It relieved him that she was keeping the Duke at a distance. Perhaps it actually means something. Perhaps that there was still a chance that Satine was still in love with him.

"I need to see her, Toulouse."

Toulouse sighed. "It's difficult, Christian. The Duke has guards waiting to stop you from even entering the Moulin Rouge."

"You have to find a way, my friend."

He frowned. "Harold." A familiar grin broke on Toulouse's face. "Yes. Harold Zidler should be able to help you."

"Take me to him."

"Of course."

When Toulouse made no indication of actually moving, Christian gestured to the door. "Now."

A surprised look crossed Toulouse's face when he realised that Christian was serious. "Oh! Of course, Christian. Come."

Satine sighed as she stared out the window from the Elephant. Today was opening night. Tonight was the night that she would have to sleep with the Duke. There mere thought of it brought out goosebumps.

Satine glanced at her pale porcelain skin. There was goosebumps but there was something else that seemed to be the cause of her unease. She glanced downwards into the streets that were below her tower. The streets were empty. Empty but for a single man who stood across the street from her tower. Satine could not make out the man's face, he was too far below. But for a completely unknown reason, Satine could not divert her attention from the dark figure. It was as if there was an unknown force compelling her, drawing her to him.

'Who was this man?' She wondered. Even though it was utterly impossible to see anything, Satine had a strange feeling that the man could see her. That he was watching her.

Shuddering, Satine backed away from the window and sat down in front of her mirror. A pale reflection greeted her as she reached for her lipstick to prepare for the night. She was going to have to get through this. She had chosen this life. She had given up Christian and all her hopes of love and a renewed life with Christian. She has to get through this. Then maybe, just maybe, she would have a bit, just a bit of happiness with all the fame, richness and splendours that the Duke could offer her before her final day came.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called out, expecting Harold.

Harold Zidler walked into the room, his worry masked by the smile playing on his lips. But Satine knew him well. She could see the worry in his eyes. But this game was not new to her. She pretended nothing was wrong and he did the same. Both masking the truth that threatened to change everything.

"All ready, my dear?"

"Of course, Harold. Tonight's the big night," she replied, a smile playing on her own lips.

"Nervous?"

She laughed. "Harold, you should know me by now. When do I ever get nervous?"

"True. Now come, we should head for Moulin Rouge. The show will be starting soon. You need to get ready for the first act."

She shook her head at him. "You go ahead Harold. I need," she paused, "A moment. I will join you soon."

Ordinarily, Harold would not have bothered with such nonsense of needing "a moment". He was a businessman and Satine knew that "moments" cause money and time. But times have changed.

Nodding his head, he warned, "Don't be late."

* * *

"He's gone to find her."

"Come on, Nini, please, help me once. When will he be back? I have to speak to Harold."

Nini simply shook her head in reply. "I'm not sure when he'll be back, Toulouse. I'm sorry I can't be of much help. But he should be back soon with Satine. The show is starting soon."

Toulouse did not hear her last few words. He was distracted by the man coming through the door. "Harold! Harold!"

"Toulouse! What are you doing here?"

"I need a favour from your Harold. He's back. Christian is back!"

The look on Harold Zidler was unreadable to Toulouse. Harold kept his emotions carefully masked. 'It would be good for Satine to be reunited once more with the man she is in love with. But would it jeopardize the way things would turn out tonight? Would Christian's presence make her want to leave the Duke, to leave the play?' Questions were running uncontrollably through his mind as he contemplated what was best for both Satine and Moulin Rouge.

"Harold, you have to help him meet her. You've seen how Satine was since he left. Though she hides it well, you know just how much pain she's in." Toulouse pleaded.

Harold Zidler frowned. Toulouse was right, he did know just how much pain she was in, but heartache was not the only thing that Satine is suffering from. She was in a greater deal of pain than any of them can imagine.

"Harold."

A new voice interrupted his train of thoughts. Harold looked up only to find himself looking into the familiar handsome face of Christian. All his thoughts disappeared, leaving his mind in a blank state of panic. He had not set in stone what his decision would be - whether it would be to prevent the meeting between the two or to allow Christian to meet her.

He looked at Christian for a moment, noticing that he seemed to have lost some weight. His face was much thinner and he looked as though he had not been sleeping well. Clearly, the separation was taking a toll on Christian as much as it was taking a toll on Satine.

Finally deciding, Harold nodded at Christian and said, "Come with me, Christian."

Relief flooded Christian as he followed Harold. His smile grew wider when he heard Toulouse cheer behind him.

"Where is she?" He asked the older man.

Satine drew her cloak closer to herself as the cold wind blew. She had decided to take a longer route to Moulin Rouge. She needed the time to compose herself, to mentally prepare herself for whatever that awaits her that night. This time goosebumps broke out on her skin but it was not from the cold. An image of the Duke had appeared in her mind, reminding her.

"Excuse me."

A soft voice startled her. She relaxed a little when she saw the well-dressed gentleman approach her.

"I'm sorry. But do you know where the Moulin Rouge is?"

Satine stared at the man. The streetlights were too dim for her to see his face clearly but there was something in his voice that just simply caught her attention.

"Yes I do. In fact, I'm heading there myself. Shall I show you the way?" She replied, slightly embarrassed at her own slow response.

Satine assumed that he smiled when he said thank you because she thought she could almost make out a smile on the stranger's face just before he turned away from her. The pair walked side by side in silence. They were still a distance away from the Moulin Rouge, not too far away as she could already hear the buzz of voices and songs that would always surround the Moulin Rouge at night. She assumed that tonight, the atmosphere would be even more boisterous than ever before as tonight would be the opening night of their very first play.

"Are you performing tonight?"

Satine turned to the man, startled at his question. He could not have been from around here or he would have known that Satine was in fact the leading lady of Moulin Rouge, the famous Sparkling Diamond. Not that she thought that everyone should know who she is but simply because the men of Montmartre, Paris, and sometimes, more often than not, beyond the district itself, were constant and faithful customers at the Moulin Rouge. So it was always quite common to have someone recognise her even when she was not in Moulin Rouge.

"Yes, I am. Where are you from, sir?" She asked, simply to keep the conversation flowing and to calm her nerves which had begun to fray since every step they took brought them closer to the place she called home. Although it certainly does not feel like home at the moment.

"Not around here." Came the easy reply. "I see we're here."

Satine stopped in her tracks herself when the man stopped to survey the view of the busy and happening Moulin Rouge. She turned to see his reaction to the inviting atmosphere.

"There is a new play today..."

But words failed her. The moment her eyes caught sight of the man next to her, words failed her.

* * *

_**Note: Yes, I'm back on the writing scene after a very long absence on my part, which I'm very very sorry about. It was a mixture of writers' block and a tremendous load of coursework. Anyways, please do review. I'll update more often. Thanks! **_


	4. Chapter 4: Spectacular Spectacular

**Chapter 4**

"Harold! Harold!" Christian yelled at the top of his lungs, hammering the door with his fist. But there was noone who could hear him because no matter how loud he yelled, no matter how hard he banged his fist against the door, all the commotion that had begun the moment the crowd started arriving will drown out his cries.

Christian leaned forward in defeat till his forehead touched the door. He felt like a fool for walking into such a trap. The moment Harold Zidler had brought him to the back of Moulin Rouge, an isolated part of Moulin Rouge, he should have knew that something was amiss. Obviously his eagerness to meet Satine once more clouded his judgement.

"Satine," Christian whispered, closing his eyes, frustrated at being so close to the most valuable thing in his life and yet so far out from his grasp.

"Satine," the man next to her whispered.

Fear and awe gripped her at the same moment. Her instincts told her to be afraid of this man and yet there was something that was compelling her to him.

"That is your name, yes?" When she did not reply him, he continued in the same soft velvety voice. "The Sparkling Diamond."

It was not a question. It sounded like he was stating the fact. Like he already knew.

She looked at him. "Yes, that is my name. What is your name, sir?" She managed to say when she remembered to compose herself.

The stranger laughed. It was a soft laugh, soft but still distinct even from the noise emanating from the Moulin Rouge. "You're going to be late."

Satine's eyes widened as she realised that he was probably right. Her walk had taken longer than she expected with the meeting with this stranger. She immediately headed for Moulin Rouge, she had a show to put on. The man followed in step as she hurried her way to the place. She glanced one last time at him before she took the route to the dressing rooms of the Moulin Rouge.

He nodded at her, a beautiful smile playing on his perfectly curved lips.

"I never got a name."

His smile widened in reply. "Marcus. My name is Marcus."

Satine would have stood, rooted to the spot if Harold had not found her there and started yelling for her to get ready for the first scene. There was just something in his smile that simply mesmerised her. But he turned away and headed for the entrance when Harold approached them, his face red, clearly agitated with Satine.

"Hurry up, Satine. The show's about to begin." Harold grabbed her arm and dragged her off to the dressing rooms despite the fact that her attention was still focused on the figure of the stranger who had turned his back and begun to walk away from them.

Or was it straight into their lives?

* * *

Satine gasped for breath the moment she was backstage. There was something very wrong with her tonight. But no, the show must go on. She closed her eyes and faked a smile, ready for the second scene as the curtains arose again.

Marcus sat in the middle of the hall, eyes fixed on her. There was something different about this woman. True, she was a beauty, far more extraordinary compared to an average human. But it was not her beauty that caught his attention. There was something...intriguing about her. It had been long since he felt an interest for anything. 'Since...' he left the thought unfinished, refusing to remember the past he was here to forget.

From where he sat, he got quite a bad view of the scene. For an ordinary person that is. But for him, it did not matter. He could be in the building across and still have a clearer view than any of those miserable humans in the front row. From his view, he could see every single detail on stage. From the detailings of the heavily decorated stage to the pained looks that flashed across Satine's face every now and then. She concealed it well as the looks hardly appeared for more than a mere second before it was gone, but it hardly fooled Marcus. She was dying, he could tell. 'Ill,' he assumed. 'Perhaps what I'm feeling is a weariness for my own lonely lifestyle. Perhaps it is time I have a little more company.' He thought as his smile widened. 'Yes perhaps.'

He focused her attention back to Satine who had stopped in the middle of a song, gasping for breath. She was running out of time. He could tell that she would not last another day. His attention diverted from her when a man in the front row, almost got out of his seat in alarm when she gasped. He narrowed his eyes at him. Amusement and annoyance filled him when he saw the ties between them. The skinny man was in love with her. 'Obsessed even,' he mused as he observed the Duke. 'Ridiculous.'

Marcus frowned. Despite the loud music from the stage, he could hear someone yelling faintly from somewhere beyond the stage. Shrugging, Marcus ignored the noise and turned his attention back to Spectacular Spectacular.

"Toulouse! Someone let me out!" Christian yelled.

Frustration and anger were already threatening to explode. Here he was, in the same building as Satine and yet here he was, stuck in a wretched closet of a room, so isolated from everything else that noone could even hear him bellowing his lungs out and there she was, on stage performing the play that they had worked so hard on together.

He ran his hands through his hair in impatience. He looked around the room trying to find anything that would be his magical ticket out of this prison of his. He realised that there was no point in screaming and yelling anymore. If anyone could hear him, they would have heard him by now.

Christian squinted in the dark, trying to make out of the useless materials that were strewn around in the room. The room seemed to be an old unused storage closet. His eyes caught sight of a metal bar at the far corner of the room.

The room spun the moment she stepped backstage at the end of her scene. Satine extended an arm to keep herself from falling. A pair of arms caught her, supporting her.

"Are you alright, Satine?"

She looked up at the speaker and found herself looking into a pair of concerned eyes. "I'm fine, Toulouse."

He nodded. "Feeling light-headed from meeting Christian again I suppose." He chuckled.

Satine's blood ran cold. "Christian?"

"Yes, didn't you meet him? He's back." Looking puzzled, he continued, "Didn't Harold bring him to you?"

"What?"

"You don't know that Christian is back?"

"Whaa..." But before she could continue, someone had pushed her out on stage for her scene.

Realising that Satine had not met Christian and that Christian was strangely missing, Toulouse hurried to find Harold Zidler for some answers.

"Where's Zidler?" He demanded to the group of girls who were preparing for their own scene. "Where's Christian?"

The girls looked at him in bewilderment. "Harold is on stage. Are you drunk, Toulouse? He's playing the Maharaja remember? Christian? Is that the writer? He left a long time ago didn't he?"

Shaking his head, he left the girls, muttering to himself under his breath. "Stupid stupid fool. Now Christian is missing and it's all your fault!"

"Christian! Christian, where are you?" He yelled, running around like a madman.

"Toulouse! Here! Let me out!"

* * *

Satine breathed a sigh of relief when the crowd stood, giving them a standing ovation. Her eyes travelled across the audience, searching for the man Toulouse had mentioned. Instead, another man caught her attention. No, it was not the overeager, enthusiastic Duke who was practically jumping up and down in the front row. No, it was not...the man Toulouse had mentioned. It was the man in the middle of crowd, the same strange man who she had accompanied to Moulin Rouge.

She hurried backstage with the rest of the cast who were all caught up in the success of Spectacular Spectacular. So caught up that they did not notice that their leading actress had fainted.

He caught her before a single strand of her hair could touch the ground. He was so fast gone that noone noticed. But he noticed them, and he was sure that he saw two men stumbling into the room yelling her name before he left.

Satine's eyes fluttered open when she heard someone call her name.

"Satine. If you could have it all, if you could keep it all, would you?"

She shook her head, not understanding. Her hand flew to her lips when she begun to cough. She looked at her palm and saw blood. "What?"

"If you could have all that you wanted, would you mind trading your life in return for everything? Everything that you've long dreamt and sought after?"

She shook her head again. "What would it matter? I'm already dying."

"It does not matter?" He repeated.

"No."

He nodded solemnly. That was all the answer that he needed.

Marcus bent his head down and kissed her lips gently.

Back in the Moulin Rouge, there was chaos everywhere.

"Where is she?" Christian kept asking but noone knew the answer. The Sparkling Diamond was missing.

"She's gone."


End file.
